Chapter 10

[Gotham City, August 28th, 11:30 PM]

[Betsy POV]

I sat in my room, tears streaming down my face, my heart heavy with grief. The loss of my best friend, Cassy, had left an indelible mark. I felt responsible, as if I could have done something to prevent the tragedy that unfolded. My thoughts were consumed by the memories of Cassy's laughter and the void her absence had created. I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility weighing heavily on my heart.

Suddenly, the silence of the room was shattered as I saw someone standing in my room. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes widening with a mix of surprise and fear. My heart raced, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected encounter. I wiped away my tears, trying to compose myself.

"Who.. Who are you?" I asked.

"Hmm.. Just a masked freak trying to find some answers about a blond kid who died three blocks away from here," the masked man replied. His voice was hoarse, adding an eerie quality to his words. "I've seen her with you before, so I came seeking answers."

"What to do you want to about Cassy's death?" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear.

The masked man replied, stepping forward as I moved back, my back hitting the wall behind me. "I'm here for answers, Betsy," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I need to understand what led to that girl's tragic end."

My mind raced, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew that revealing the truth about Cassy's struggles and my own demons would expose my vulnerability.

Scorpion's piercing gaze seemed to see through me, and I felt as though I were standing on a precipice, teetering between the safety of my secrets and the weight of my conscience. I mustered my courage, fighting back tears as I prepared to respond.

"I... I don't know," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I wish I could help you, but I don't know what led her down that path."

My words were a lie, a facade to protect the fragile balance of my own life. I couldn't bear the thought of exposing the truth, not just about Cassy's struggles.

The masked man face betrayed no emotion, but his voice held a hint of skepticism. "Are you sure, Betsy?" he pressed gently.

I felt a lump forming in my throat, my heart aching with the weight of my deception. I knew that Cassy's story deserved to be told, that the truth deserved to be heard. But I couldn't. If I started to speak, I might end up spilling my own secrets due to being overwhelmed with emotions.

With a heavy sigh, Betsy looked away, unable to meet Scorpion's gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of guilt and sadness. "I don't know anything more than what I've already said."

As the man didn't get any answers, he chose an intimidating approach, swiftly moving towards me soundlessly. "Do yourself a favor, tell the truth, or you might regret lying to me," he spoke menacingly, his presence overwhelming.

My panic escalated, and my eyes widened. I struggled to breathe as his grip tightened around my throat. After a desperate struggle, I gave up and nodded, my body trembling with fear. Sensing my compliance, Scorpion released his grip, causing me to fall to the floor.

He crouched down to my eye level, his intense gaze piercing through me. "Talk, don't test my patience," he demanded. Overwhelmed by fear and desperation, I confessed, revealing the painful truth about how Cassy was abused by her father.

After I finished talking, I looked up only to find that the man had vanished into thin air. Overwhelmed with emotions, I couldn't hold back my tears, and I wept uncontrollably.

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Alex left Betsy's house after interrogating her, feeling a mix of anger and frustration. He had obtained some answers, but he knew he needed proof. He made his way to her house, hoping to find any the proof that could shed light on her circumstances.

The streets were quiet, with only a few dimly lit street lamps guiding his path. Reaching Cassy's house, he observed it from a safe distance. The windows were dark, and there was an eerie stillness in the air. Alex scanned the surroundings, looking for any signs of activity or anything out of the ordinary.

Carefully, Alex made his way toward the alley. He took the fire escape route and reached Cassy's bedroom. He began searching to see if he could find any residual drugs or clues related to her depression.

As Alex meticulously searched Cassy's house, his eyes fell upon a small drawer tucked away in the corner of her bedroom. Opening it cautiously, he discovered a hidden compartment beneath a false bottom. Inside, he found a packet containing small pills.

It became evident that Cassy had been deeply involved with drugs, and the evidence before him painted a grim picture of her struggles.

However, alongside the drugs, Alex stumbled upon a handwritten diary. Leafing through its pages, his heart sank at the dark secrets it unveiled. The diary chronicled Cassy's traumatic experiences, vividly detailing the abuse she had endured at the hands of her alcoholic father.

The words on the pages painted a vivid and heart-wrenching picture of a young girl trapped in a cycle of fear and pain. It became apparent to Alex that Cassy's drug addiction was a coping mechanism, a desperate attempt to numb the anguish she felt.

Reading through the diary entries, a mix of anger and empathy surged within Alex. He felt anger toward the father who had inflicted such harm upon his own daughter and empathy for the pain Cassy had endured throughout her life.

The weight of the revelation settled upon Alex's shoulders, and he knew that this discovery would forever change his perspective on Cassy's struggle. It wasn't just about drugs anymore; it was about the deep-rooted trauma that had driven her down this destructive path.

As the news of Cassy's abusive father stirred within Alex, it also unearthed painful recollections from his own past life. Images of the cold, desolate halls of the orphanage flashed before his eyes, accompanied by the haunting echoes of harsh words and cruel actions.

In that moment, a wave of raw emotions crashed over Alex. The anger he had felt towards Cassy's father now mingled with his own deep-seated resentment towards the individuals who had subjected him to a similar fate.

The memories resurfaced, unearthing buried scars that still lingered within Alex's heart. The emotional and physical abuse he had endured in the orphanage had shaped him, leaving a lasting impact on his sense of self-worth and trust in others.

But as the bitter memories resurfaced, Alex refused to let his past define him, and he vowed to channel his pain and anger into a force for change.

Gently placing the diary back where he found it, Alex carefully gathered the evidence of Cassy's drug use. He took photographs of the pages where she had poured out her pain and suffering. These findings would serve a purpose - serving as a testament to Cassy's struggles.

Leaving Cassy's room with a heavy heart, Alex was royally pissed now and he needed to vent. He took out his laptop connected his mobile and hacked the surveillance cameras in the area. He discovered that Cassy's father trail.

After some time he found the trail leading towards a rundown bar. Getting the location Alex pulled out his

Entering the dimly lit establishment, Alex scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar face of Cassy's father. As he moved through the crowd, he encountered hostile stares and whispered conversations, but he remained undeterred.

Finally, his gaze fell upon a man matching the description of Cassy's father. Anger surged within Alex he saw the man's face. Without hesitation, he approached him, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar.

"Patrick, I presume?" Alex asked, his voice steady and composed.

"Who the fuck are you, freak?" Patrick snorted, his tone filled with defiance and hostility.

"Hmm... I usually don't reveal my name, but I go by the name Scorpion," Alex replied with a cold and calculated tone. As he stepped forward, he swiftly targeted an accupoint on the person's body, stunning him momentarily. "You will remember me when I'm finished with you," he said, his words filled with a chilling promise.

Since the moment Alex entered the bar, a hushed silence had fallen over the place, and all eyes were fixed on him, observing his every move. The conversation between Alex and Patrick had been heard loud and clear, and tension hung in the air. Patrick remained seated, his posture rigid, showing no signs of movement. Suddenly, the entire bar erupted with commotion as the patrons, armed with whatever weapons they had at hand, aimed them in Alex's direction.

Alex watched as approximately 15 individuals, some of whom were wearing black masks, surrounded him. Assessing the escalating situation, he spoke with a calm yet firm tone, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Guys, does anyone want to walk away from this?"

"Screw you!" a burly figure shouted, lunging forward with a punch aimed at Alex's head. Reacting swiftly, Alex ducked under the swing, narrowly avoiding the blow. With a swift motion, he retrieved Ivory from his inventory, ready to put his marksmanship and quick reflexes to the test.

A smirk formed on Alex's face as he found himself encircled by the aggressive group, he spoke tauntingly, "Hehe, let's dance, shall we?"

As the first gunshot shattered the relative calm, Alex's instincts kicked in, and he swiftly assessed the dire situation. With precise and fluid movements, he drew his weapon and entered a deadly dance of bullets and precision. However, rather than aiming to deliver fatal shots, Alex focused his aim on his opponents' hands, seeking to disable their ability to continue the firefight.

Each shot was calculated, aimed at disarming rather than ending lives. The sound of gunfire echoed through the air as Alex skillfully targeted his opponents' hands, causing them to drop their weapons one by one. The scene became a chaotic flurry of movement and disarmed individuals, as Alex's marksmanship and determination proved to be a formidable force.

Through his calculated strategy, Alex aimed to neutralize the threat without causing unnecessary harm, displaying both his proficiency in combat and his desire to end the confrontation with minimal casualties.

Alex's strategy was twofold: to neutralize the immediate threat by disabling his opponents' ability to shoot, and to impart a powerful message of mercy and restraint. By deliberately avoiding lethal force, he sought to show that there was an alternative path—one that would leave his adversaries crippled, yet alive.

As his opponents found themselves unable to harm him due to their injured hands, a profound shift occurred in the atmosphere. The initial disbelief in their widened eyes was quickly replaced by a mix of relief and awe. Recognizing the opportunity, most of the goons seized the chance to escape, fleeing from the scene, while others remained on the ground, clutching their bleeding hands.

In the end, the abusive father sat in shock at the display of skills Alex showed and began to panic. However, he couldn't do anything as he was stunned.

Alex lifted Patrick by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the bar.

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Thank You,

Everyone who has given me stones.

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